Remember Me
by ChocoCookiesMe
Summary: Perhaps Prussia has died but Gilbert hasn't really left the world. He returns to visit three people that he held close in his heart: he wants them to remember him. After all, no one wants to be forgotten. Warning: character death.


_**Author's Note: I do not hold claim to Hetalia: Axis Powers or Brahms' Lullaby. They belong to their respective owners. If you want to see the English translation for the lullaby you can find it on Wikipedia by searching for "Brahms' Lullaby". I've tried to put in some feels though I'm still learning. Feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated! Until then, enjoy!**_

* * *

Cornflowers scattered the fields. A breeze drifted through the land. Eerie silence enveloped the heavy air. No one was on the streets. Wary eyes peeked through shattered windows. Harsh, bleak darkness settled in. Dull flickering lampposts were like watchmen; silhouetted and curious.

The sounds of dragging feet and bated breath caused shadows to appear. Two cloaked figures emerged in the dim light. Hushed mutterings were heard in German. There was a loud thump and the hood of a cloak fell. Soon, more cloaked figures followed.

Voices pierced the quiet town; a mixture of foreign tongues. Candles were held in hands; a haze of orange and yellow radiated in the greyness of the village. Eyes peeked out from destroyed cottages, watching with the wariness of hounds. The cloaked figures were heading towards the cornflower fields, prayers trailing in the night.

In the misty orange and yellow, a blond man carried the body of his brother. The brother was covered in blue, his silvery white hair shone in the dark.

They approached a lake, covered in cornflowers and roses. A low melody began to drift through the night; soft, slow, gentle.

_Guten Abend, gute Nacht,  
mit Rosen bedacht_

The man was laid to rest; he was placed inside a small coffin with his name inscribed on it. A woman stepped forward, clad in green underneath her cloak. She took her cross off and placed it beside him.

"Goodbye…Gilbert."

She kissed his forehead before drifting back into the crowd. Ashen faces looked to the ground. Another man made way to the front, his face was pale in the dim moonlight. His glasses caught the light. He knelt down, placing a sword on the other side of his body.

_...mit Näglein __besteckt,  
schlupf unter die Deck_

"Well, I'm sad to say that our battles will be no more…Auf Wiedersehen, Preußen."

Finally, the brother stood over the coffin that was floating in the water.

"Goodbye…"

With one last look, he cut off the rope that kept the coffin at bay. The group watched as it drifted down the stream; the first rays of sunlight shone over it.

_Morgen früh, wenn Gott will, _

_wirst du wieder geweckt._

* * *

The wall that separated them was agonizing and painful. There were no haunting screams in the night. There was silence; uncomfortable and awkward. The man on the other side had looked like someone he knew many years before. Perhaps it was his brother; born anew. But there was nothing left of it.

There was no Prussia. He gave it away to Germany. And now, Germany was split; the scars cutting across his back told him so. The land and borders that Prussia had were no more; it was Germany's land.

Every day the same question would haunt Ludwig Weillschmidt.

Why had he been given the land of his deceased brother, Gilbert…Prussia?

The answer was probably quite simple even if he would not know.

He had even consulted his neighbour, Switzerland, who replied with: "I think he wanted you to handle his stuff seeing as you're a country and he isn't…I guess he wanted his little brother to have something to do…while he's gone."

When Switzerland had told him that, he began to piece things together. It meant that Prussia had not really left him; maybe temporarily but not permanently. Come to think of it, he never once saw the man on the other side of the wall. All he heard were rumours that it was "East Germany". It made sense, for they all called him "West."

However, this new figure had not attended any meetings, at least whenever Ludwig was around.

This wall that divided them had not been opened in any way.

Germany tried to call out to the other side; greeted only by the sounds of footsteps; hurried and rushed.

He tried again the next day; only to see his attempts fail.

By the third day, hopefully with luck on his side, he called out to "East Germany". His ears try to pick up sounds; he's greeted by a pounding on the wall and a familiar voice.

"Hallo, West!" The greeting is raspy with age.

"Is that you, Prussia?" he replies; his voice, wary.

"Oh please, Ludwig, don't you remember me?"

Ludwig, surprised by the answer, smiles softly to himself.

"Of course," He tried to press a question that only Prussia could ever answer. "How's Fritz? Have you seen him?"

There is no reply for a few moments. But then, the person on the other side answers. "Ja, I've seen old Fritz. In fact, he told me to take care of you here."

Germany is taken aback by the answer. "Then, why did you die?"

"Nein, I didn't die…Nations only die when nobody considers themselves part of a country. I have many Prussians lurking in these areas. Guess I'm too awesome to die."

Ludwig chuckled softly, it was indeed Prussia. He asked one more question; the one that had been eating at him for several years.

"Tell me, bruder, why have you sacrificed your land and money to help me…?"

"Ludwig, it was for the sole reason that I wanted you to live. I didn't want you to die, so I left you with what I had left of me. Something noble…"

Switzerland had turned out to be correct in some way. Prussia wanted his younger brother to live; to serve some purpose in this world. He may have no power, land or nobility, but, he passed it on to Germany. His younger brother was more important than him.

Germany bids him farewell and returns to his small house. He lay in bed at night, his mind went through the conversation he had. He could not remember Gilbert's face, but it was his voice that brought an image into his mind. It was the face he saw when he laid the man to rest; silvery grey hair and burgundy eyes shut tight. He had been wearing his blue military uniform with his cross by his side and his sword from the Teutonic days.

Ludwig may not carry Prussia's burden anymore but he had land and money. Land was just land but he could use the money in some way. He could make Germany whole again; a promise he made to Prussia the night he was buried.

_Guten Abend, gute Nacht,_

_von Englein bewacht,_

* * *

The soft notes of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" composition drifted through Roderich Edelstein's house. It may not be an Austrian composer but Roderich could appreciate foreign music. He stood by the French windows in his house, sipping his tea.

He half expected to hear the front door slammed shut; it would mean a certain Prussian had come to torment him. It was strange for Roderich to say, but he missed the cocky albino. It was not the same anymore. They had been through battles and wars together; even seen the rise and fall of empires. Prussia's empire had fallen and was dissolved later, Austria had watched that happen right before his eyes.

Roderich shook his head and set his tea down on the table. It had barely been touched; he had been left to his thoughts. He sat down on the piano bench, his thoughts transferred to the keys. He played Tchaikovsky in memory of the fallen nation; he remembered days he would play it and Prussia would smirk and call him "Little Master". Nevertheless, Gilbert would watch with intensity and care for music. Sometimes he would applaud him, other times he would laugh. Yet, Austria understood the underlying emotions and gentle appreciation.

Most of time, Austria was preoccupied. It was not always to do with his country's affairs or meetings, though he found himself reminiscing the times he had lost or won battle against Prussia. Or his shared time with Hungary before the Great War, he would see the jealousy and hurt in Gilbert's eyes. He had no choice when he married her, and he truly loved her. Once again, when he felt concern for his cousin, it was brushed off.

"If only you knew I missed you, of all people, Preußen," he muttered to himself, glancing down at the piano.

_"__Do you, Little Master?"_

He could have sworn he heard a reply. He looked around his living room – nothing. It was probably the voice in his head; distorted to make him sound like Prussia. The cries did not stop; it made Roderich feel like he had schizophrenia.

Christmas rolled by, Hungary visited him. She noticed the change in his face; his eyes were red and puffy from insomnia, his hair was disheveled and unkempt. But he could not reply for it would make him seem like a mad fool.

Once Hungary left, he began to clean up. He noticed a couple of presents under the Christmas tree. He raised an eyebrow; he had already received most of his gifts earlier. So why were there two presents sitting under the tree? He wondered if Finland had made a mistake when delivering, though it was not like him.

He crouched down beside the tree and grabbed the gift. When he caught sight of the name, his heart leaped.

"_Frohe Weihnachten, Ӧsterreich,"_

The voice sourced from the doorway, he turned around see who it was. Sure enough, Prussia was right in front of him. He was dressed in simple black slacks and a dark blue shirt. It was the man, in the flesh. It was as though they had never laid him to rest or that he had never placed the sword by his body.

Roderich, who loathed embraces, pulled the man into a hug.

_"__Gott!_ I thought it was you!"

Prussia smiled. "Well, Little Master, I'm still here…Missed me?"

Austria pulled away from the hug. He offered Gilbert a beer, who accepted it graciously.

The two sat next to each other by the fireplace, Roderich downed his brandy and eyed the man beside him. Gilbert was swirling the contents of his glass.

"Y'know, _Ӧsterreich, _I've only been given a new name with little land. I doubt it'll last much longer. And then I'd been gone again…I don't know."

"Oh?"

"I'm just East Germany now." Roderich nodded slowly.

He had heard of rumours circling Germany's area. The wall was probably going to go down soon.

"Will you stay for the night?"

"Ja," Gilbert replied, drinking his beer.

"I'll go prepare a room." He said, rising from his seat.

Roderich shut the door to the guest room. The clock chimed in the hallway. It was one in the morning. He sighed and went back downstairs. He replayed what Gilbert had said in the bedroom just as he left.

"Don't forget me…Promise me that…"

All Austria did was simply nod again. He was dumbfounded; words that were already in his mind could not be said. He cursed his stupidity. Of course he would keep to that promise. He let the breath part from his lips, and made way for the piano. Once again, Vivaldi's compositions filled the halls; comforting, soothing, pleasant.

_…__die zeigen im Traum_

_dir Christkindleins Baum._

* * *

Elizaveta had witnessed the burial; she had even placed his cross in the makeshift coffin. The Hungarian nation had watched her former husband utter goodbye to the man he had hated for most of his life. She watched her friend cast off the reins and let the body drift away. Everyone had moved on; they all pushed forward. However, she remained in the past.

Fixed in her mind, was the sight of his blood. He had stared at her with red eyes; the life was slowly being sucked out of him. The battlefield of dead men surrounded his dying body. His skin was pale like a ghost; his bony fingers had wound themselves around her. Then, slowly, she heard the last raspy breath leave him and she cried. Of everyone in the world, she had shed tears for him; her enemy.

She goes on with her life, calling errands and visiting friends. Occasionally some national affair or other, but she was left to her devices.

It was early May, just a few months after the burial. The days seemed to drag on forever. Hungary decided early on that perhaps some fresh air would do her good. She rested her feet in the cool grass, uninterrupted except for the gentle twittering of birds. Despite the peace, something had still felt off to her.

She still feels pain. It was a heavy, aching feeling her heart that never ceased. It had being going on for quite some time. Hungary longs for the old days to return - the days where conflict was at a bare minimum, when Prussia was still around.

But she knew she had to let it go. Even Belarus and Liechtenstein had told her at a world meeting earlier that year. Eliza needed to let him go.

_It wouldn't be easy_, she had told herself, _but it would be worth it_.

She hears footsteps approach and she smiles. Eliza opens her eyes a little to see who. She expects Austria, her good friend and former husband. But she looks up and screams. It is because the man she sees is dead. It is because Prussia should no longer be there. But he is here, standing over her. And he has a broad grin on his face.

"You're supposed to be dead!" She yells.

She hears his laughter and it brings shivers down his spine. It was _real._

"I'm completely alive, Hungary!" he replies.

She scrambles to her feet and makes a grab for his coat. He was real. It was not an imposer; they would not have been to tell the difference between her and a human unless she breathed a word of it.

"Y-you bastard…why did you die?!" she questions, angry seeps through her.

Prussia smirks and crosses his arms. "Because I had to…I have no country now…I am a _human._"

She is frozen with fear. The man, who had tormented her, had fought battles with, and _hated _for the majority of her life, was not part of their clan anymore.

That was when Elizaveta lost her composure. She never thought she would feel sorry for him, in any way. She yells out his name and screams to the heavens above; tears streaking down her face. She swears and curses, all while clinging onto his body. He soothes her, brushes her hair out of her eyes and smiles sadly.

"I'm afraid…it had to be this way." Gilbert whispers softly.

She sniffles and mumbles something into his chest. He listens to her but does not speak. He lifts her chin, pressing his lips against hers. The sensation was odd. His lips were soft and gentle; he caresses her cheek and runs a hand through his hair. She deepens the kiss slightly, placing a hand on his chest.

They broke apart and lay down beside each other. They exchange stories and tales through their times together until nightfall. As Prussia recounted another one of his "awesome" tales, he falls asleep on her chest, snoring lightly. She lets him rest and soon she feels her eyes closing; lost to slumber.

Maybe he was not a nation anymore, but he would be her friend. The important thing was that he was alive.

_…__Schlaf nun selig und süß,_

_schau im Traum ′s Paradies._


End file.
